That's What You Get For Waking Up In Vegas
by LeHedgehog
Summary: Hermione and Sirius wake up in Las Vegas to find that they got drunkenly hitched the night before...Rated M for smut and swearing!x
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a story that's been floating around my head for a while. I started a marriage law fic, but I think I'd rather do a more light hearted story – so here it is., let me know what you think!xx**

Hermione Granger opened her eyes slightly, and groaned as the morning light seemed to burn her retina. Her head ached, her stomach churned and she realised very quickly that if she did not move soon she would be sick where she lay.

Squinting against the harsh sunlight that streamed through the open curtains of her hotel room, she crawled out of bed, stumbled across the heavy carpet and into the en-suite bathroom.

She sank to her knees before the toilet and - arms wrapped around the bowl - she began to heave. After a few minutes, when all the contents of her stomach had been emptied, she pulled the flush and curled up in a ball on the cool marble tiled floor.

She lay there for a moment, trying to remember the events of the night before – but drew a blank. It was Harry's Bachelor Party, and they were in Las Vegas, that much she knew. Fred and George had produced a small potion before they left for the night club, and at their insistence everybody had taken a few drops – and that was when Hermione's memory of the night began to get a bit hazy. She remembered feeling a sense of euphoria, an urge to dance and a lot of love for all those present – but not much else.

Groaning where she lay, Hermione knew that her only salvation lay in the hangover cure she had brewed before leaving England. With a great effort she clambered to her feet, and made her way slowly to the bedroom, trying to remember where she had left it.

Standing at the open door of the bathroom, Hermione surveyed the clothes strewn carpet of her room to see if she could spot her purse. Not seeing it, she let here eyes scan the room once more and gave a gasp as she spotted something she had missed. Sirius Black, asleep in her bed.

'Sirius', she hissed– and the unconscious man twitched slightly, but did not wake.

'Sirius', she called again – louder this time a sense of panic growing in her chest, and the slumbering wizard awoke with a groan.

'Hermione,' he greeted her in confusion, squinting out at her with his one open eye. 'Why are you wearing that thing on your head?'

Hermione groped at her hair, and indeed there was something caught in her curls. She tugged at it, and after a painful wrench she came away with what looked like a piece of white netting in her hand.

'I think it was a veil,' she said unsure.

Sirius wasn't listening though, he had just realised that the bed he was in was not his own, and he sat up thoroughly confused.

'Where are we?' he questioned, rubbing his sleep filled eyes.

'In my hotel room,' came Hermione's strained reply.

Sirius gave a bark of laughter, an amused smile on his face. 'Don't tell me we slept together Granger,' he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Hermione blushed, 'I don't think we did...' She trailed off as unwanted memories of her and Sirius passionately kissing on the dance floor the night before popped into her head. Had that actually happened, she questioned herself agitatedly, or was it just an after effect of Fred and George's potion?

'Well,' Sirius said, standing up from the bed, stretching and groaning slightly as the sudden movement hurt his head. 'I'm fully clothed, and you're fully clothed, so I'm guessing nothing untoward took place and my virtue is still in tact.'

He gave her a sardonic smile, and Hermione smiled feebly back. She was glad he was being so light hearted about the whole affair – despite knowing Sirius now for nearly ten years, she still felt a bit awkward in his company. They were like chalk and cheese, and while Sirius's laissez faire attitude to life sometimes irritated her, she knew that her own perfectionism grated occasionally on the Marauder.

She suddenly gave an excited squeal as she spotted her purse, trapped between the bedside table and the bed, and rushed forward to extract the small bottle of hangover potion that she had packed before leaving England.

'Here,' she offered the bottle to Sirius after she had taken a large gulp, ' It's a hangover cure.'

Sirius shook his head, grinning 'It won't work kiddo, what Fred and George gave us last night was Essence of Ecstasy – the only cure for this is time.'

He rubbed his eyes again and gave a yawn; his head ached and he was exhausted, he was too old at forty for these kinds of shenanigans.

'They gave us drugs?' Hermione squeaked indignantly. 'OhmyGod if anyone at work finds out I'm screwed.' She sat down heavily on the edge of her bed, thinking of her boss at St. Mungo's, and what his reaction would be if he ever found out. Horatio Hacklebotham had been hinting for a while now that he was considering Hermione for a promotion to Head Healer – but if he ever discovered she had taken illicit potions she was sure that he would fire her on the spot.

'Don't worry your curly little head about it Hermione,' Sirius said with a smile as he sat down beside her and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. 'Remember what we said before we left?'

'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas...' Hermione intoned dully.

'Exactly. It's nothing to feel bad about – you had fun, and nobody got hurt.' Sirius paused for a moment, 'Well I think you had fun and I'm sure nobody got hurt – I can't actually remember much of last night.' He ran a hand through his hair, frowning as he tried to recall the events of the night before. The Essence of Ecstasy had filled him with an urge to kiss everyone and with a small jolt he remembered that the only person available to kiss had been Hermione – and that they had done so frequently. He hastily removed his arm from her shoulders, feeling suddenly awkward.

'Maybe we should head down to find the others,' he suggested, and Hermione gave a nod.

Just as they stood there was a loud knock and the door of the hotel room burst open.

'Well if it isn't the happy couple,' George Weasley greeted them, a Cheshire cat grin across his face.

'Mr. Black, Mrs. Black,' Fred nodded at them in mock solemnity.

Hermione stared at them in irritation, 'What are you two talking about?'

Harry, Ron and Lupin who had trailed the twins into the room each gave her an amused look.

'You don't remember?' Harry questioned kindly, and Hermione shook her head - a feeling of alarm growing.'You and Sirius got married last night...'

Hermione turned to stare at Sirius who in turn was looking at her aghast.

'We didn't,' she stated firmly, trying to convince herself.

'Oh but you did Mrs. Black,' George replied, his grin growing even wider.

'Stop calling me that,' Hermione hissed, sitting down once again on the bed with her head in her hands.

'That's right George,' Fred interjected, 'She doesn't want to be called that – it's Mrs. Granger-Black thank you very much.'

Hermione looked up at Sirius as the name triggered memories in her head – and saw the same look of shock cross his handsome face.

'Shit,' she exhaled.

'Shit indeed,' came his weary reply.


	2. Chapter 2

They made a motley crew at the breakfast table in the hotel's restaurant. Hermione was seated with her head resting on the white linen table cloth, Sirius was beside her chain smoking and drinking coffee. Ron was a slight shade of green, gingerly sipping on a glass of water, Harry was eating slowly, occasionally stopping to roll up his sleeve and see if the garish tattoo he'd got the night before was still on his arm – it was. Lupin was a shade of grey – only the twins seemed unaffected and they were regaling the table with stories from the night before.

'So,' Fred began, chewing on a piece of toast.' After the Essence of Ecstasy kicked in we hit a night club on the strip. We were all dancing innocently until you started to grind on Sirius.' He aimed this comment at Hermione who didn't even bother to lift her head – she just flipped him the finger, and groaned. Sirius tried to hide a grin – at least he could say he hadn't started it.

'Then we decided to split up,' George continued. 'Harry was adamant that he wanted to get a tattoo that proclaimed his love – so he left with Ron and Lupin to see if they could find a late night tattooist to do the job for him.' He grinned over at Harry who one again rolled up his shirt sleeve to look at the giant heart that was now permanently inked on his arm, the name 'Ginny' emblazoned across it.

'Classy mate,' Fred gave a snigger, and Harry smiled ruefully.

'So,' George once again took over the thread of the conversation,'Fred and I decided to hit a casino with these two showgirls that we picked up in the club. Gorgeous girls, Beauxbatons I think they said.'

Fred grinned, 'Yup, a couple of French Fancies. So we hit the Bellagio, and we brought you two along to keep an eye.' He nodded at Sirius and Hermione. 'And we played a few hands of poker – until we were asked to leave because you two were making such a scene.'

'What kind of scene?' Lupin asked curiously, taking a small sip of his coffee and grimacing as it burned his tongue.

'They were stroking each others faces, kissing, declaring their love and practically humping at the casino bar...'

Hermione blushed scarlet at Fred's comment, and tried to avoid looking at Sirius who appeared to be suppressing a laugh.

'So,' George continued again, 'This wizard that you'd met at the bar, suggested that if you loved each other so much you should probably get hitched.'

'I don't understand why you didn't try to stop us though?' Hermione interjected angrily.

'It was The Essence,' George gave an apologetic shrug, 'We were all feeling the love, it seemed like a great idea at the time.'

'So we made our way to The Little White Wizards Chapel – picking up a veil on the way for you Hermione.'

Hermione gave a little shudder as she remembered the shop girl's appalled face as she purchased the tacky veil – she must have looked like a lunatic.

'When we got to the chapel though, we hit a snag.'

'Oh?' Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

'Yeah,' Fred was munching on some cornflakes now and speaking with his mouth full. 'The officiator reckoned you were both too inebriated to know what you were doing.'

'Then why did they let us go ahead with it?' Sirius asked, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

'Well it was you mate,' George gave a grin, 'You started kicking off. Said you were Witch Weekly's bachelor of the year, an internationally renowned playboy and that you wanted to marry your beautiful trophy wife right there and then. You threw so many galleons at the guy that after a while he just couldn't refuse.'

Hermione shot Sirius a withering glare and he had the good grace to blush. He couldn't remember saying any of those things – but he didn't doubt that he had. His ego was a healthy size at the best of times...

'So the ceremony was performed, and when the officiator declared you may now kiss -'

'Hermione got confused and kissed the officiator,' Fred finished with a laugh. Hermione groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

'Then Sirius punched the guy for touching "his woman"', and everything got a bit messy and we all got separated from each other...' George trailed off, grinning at the unhappy couple before him.

The table was silent for a few moments as each person digested the story. Harry was scratching at his tattoo that had now begun to burn and itch.

'So we'll just get a divorce,' Hermione said brightly, as the idea popped into her head – why had she not thought of this before?

'Umm we can't kiddo...' Sirius looked at her in concern. 'It was a magical ceremony, we're bound together till death do us part.'

'Then we'll just have to hope that one of us dies.'

Sirius tried not to laugh at the seriousness of her expression.

'Look Hermione, it's not a big deal. We'll go back to England and pretend that none of this happened. I never wanted to get married – and I've heard you on one of your rants -" the institution of marriage is the chief vehicle for the perpetuation of the oppression of women",' he imitated her with a great deal of accuracy.

Hermione nodded, 'Fine, then this all stays here, and we'll never mention it again.' She looked around the table in warning, 'What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.'

The others looking uneasy nodded their agreement.

'You can count on us Mrs. Granger-Black ,' Fred said with mock gallantry – then to the surprise of the other diners had to rush from restaurant as large boils erupted on his face.

'Something he ate,' Hermione called over to the curious couple at the next table, hastily tucking her wand up her sleeve.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a weary and worn group that arrived with a thump in the small park in the square opposite Grimmauld Place later that night. Hermione let go of the portkey that had brought them from Vegas, and tried to steady herself against the wave of nausea the travelling had induced.

'Next time we go to Vegas we fly', Harry croaked between retching into a bush.

'There won't _be_ a next time,' Hermione answered tetchily. Her head ached, her stomach churned and having spent the whole day awkwardly avoiding Sirius – she had completely run out of patience with the world. 'I'm going home,' she muttered, and apparated with a pop but without so much as a goodbye for her fellow travellers.

'The road to true love is never smooth', George quipped, smacking a stressed looking Sirius on the back. The older man glared in annoyance, 'It's _not_ true love – and it never happened _remember?'._ Harry thought that lesser men would have flinched at his godfather's menacing tone, but George just rolled his eyes muttered 'Yeah, yeah, Vegas and all that', before mock saluting the rest of the group and disappearing as Hermione had with a loud pop.

'Guess this is it mate, until the wedding', Ron came for ward to slap his shoulder, and Remus shook his hand 'Yes best of luck Harry.' With quick embarrassed goodbyes to Sirius and well wishes to Harry they both apparated back to their respective homes,leaving Harry and Sirius alone for the first time.

'Fancy a hair of the three headed dog?'

A drink was the _last_ thing that Harry wanted, but the anguished look on his Godfather's face had him agreeing and traipsing up the steps of Grimmauld Place behind him. The house, which was still used as the headquarters for The Order when the odd death-eater resurfaced, lay in darkness. The pair crept past the sleeping portrait of Walburga Black – Sirius's late mother, and into the library which housed many ancient books – and even more ancient bottles of wine.

'Red?' Sirius called, but Harry didn't bother to answer as his Godfather was already uncorking a bottle and summoning glasses from the kitchen. Sirius poured them both a healthy measure, before sitting down at his desk and surveying Harry wearily.

'This is a mess Harry', Sirius sighed after downing half his glass in one quick gulp.

'It doesn't have to be,' Harry shrugged, 'It's like you said nobody needs to know'.

Sirius shot him a withering glance; 'Yes but we know, and although Hermione claims she doesn't _want _to get married now, we both know that when she meets the right wizard she'll want to get hitched and pop out a few little deamons like every other witch does.'

He paused for a moment to ponder, and suddenly clicked his fingers; 'I've got it'.

Harry raised his eyebrows and Sirius shook his head to silence him even though he wasn't speaking.

'No,really I do. I know I've read somewhere that wizardss marriages are only binding if they've been consummated, and Hermione and I didn't have sex that night – Oh grow up,' Sirius broke up at the slightly nauseated look on his godson's face.

'If we can prove that the marriage is invalid we can have it annulled by the Ministry and nobody need ever find out...Harry are you listening?'

He wasn't; the waves of nausea that had plagued him all day had resurfaced at the thought of his best friend and his Godfather fornicating like the proverbial bunnies, and Harry's head was now leaning over a coal bucket. The acrid stench of vomit reached Sirius's nose, and the smell caused his own fragile stomach to clench. Backing away from his godson Sirius called 'Kreacher' loudly – and with a pop the House Elf was before him.

'Can you clean that,' Sirius pointed at the vomit filled bucket, ' and Harry up – please'. With a loud sigh, and much mutinous muttering the house elf complied. The offending bucket was removed and Kreacher made a great show of wiping Harry's face with a cloth, fetching him a blanket and glass of water – all the while muttering about the filth that his master sought to bring into the House of Black.

'That's enough of that Kreacher,' Sirius's tone was sharp, 'I won't have you calling my guests filth'.

The house elf rolled his eyes, 'Kreacher was not referring to Mr. Potter, but to the mudblood that Master Sirius has married and brought into the family.'

Too shocked to correct him on the 'mudblood' slur, Sirius hoarsely whispered 'What?' and the house elf pointed at the tapestry of the Black family tree. Edging closer, Sirius saw that linked by gold thread to the blackened space where he once was, was the name Hermione Granger.

'Oh my mistress would not be happy that you have soiled the ancient and most noble line by marrying such filth,' Kreacher continued, but Sirius silenced him with a sharp wave of his hand.

'Enough Kreacher – I forbid you to speak of this to anyone,' the house elf stared up at him, confusion written on his face.

'But Master Sirius I have already sent the notice to The Daily Prophet – it is tradition in the most noble House of Black to announce all marriages – even marriages to filthy mudbloods...'

Sirius paled, 'Shut-up Kreacher, when did you send the notice?'

'This morning – and if your mother was here to see the shame that you have brought on the family...' Sirius let the house elf continue on his ramble, and looked beseechingly over at Harry who sat pale faced in his chair.

'What time do The Daily Prophet go to press at?', the Maurader's voice was a weak croak.

'Eleven p.m'.

'And what time is it now?'

Harry checked his watch 'Three a.m', came his grim reply.

'Shit...'.

They were doomed.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione awoke late and disorientated the next morning, confused by the pastel-ness of the room she was sleeping in. It was a few seconds before she realised that she was in _her _bedroom, in her parents town house in Notting Hill. Overcome the night before by what Ginny Weasley referred to as "The Fear" a hungover Hermione had made her to the warm, comforting blandness of her parents home instead of back to her own apartment in Diagon Alley.

Stretching tiredly in the very old Fraggle Rock pyjamas she had found in her wardrobe, Hermione threw the (pastel) covers off her bed and shuffled down to the kitchen for a restorative cup of coffee, where her parents were sitting at the kitchen table sipping on fruit tea and reading separate sections of The Times.

'Coffee?' Hermione croaked in a voice she didn't recognise as her own.

Mrs. Granger gave her daughter a stern look of admonishment; 'Really Hermione, it's too acidic to have first thing - your poor teeth. Here have this,' she said as she poured a glass of milk from the carton on the kitchen table.

Slumping down in a free chair Hermione sipped obediently on her milk, feeling all of twelve years old.

'I'm guessing it would be too much to ask for a glass of orange juice?' she ventured, and both her parents chuckled indulgently as though she had said something terrifically funny.

'Juice!' her father was still laughing and shaking his head as he reached for a pen to start the crossword before work, as he had done every morning for the past twenty five years. Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from smiling; the reliable predictability of her parents always acted as a comforting foil to the often chaotic wizarding world.

Glancing at the clock that hung over the fridge, Hermione gave a groan; 'I'm going to be late,' she moaned, grabbing a banana and rushing upstairs to get dressed.

'You're never too late to floss dear,' her mother called after her, and Hermione heard her father mutter in agreement.

Pointing her wand at the clothes she had worn the day before, Hermione muttered '_scurgify_' and hoped that the cleansing spell would suffice for now. She quickly tied her hair in a dishevelled bun, and with a lick of mascara she was ready. Shouting goodbye down the stairs to her parents, Hermione apparated with a pop to the cracked pavement outside the building which housed St. Mungo's.

Flustered by her lateness, and the early morning crowds making their way to work Hermione failed to notice Sirius leaning inconspicuously against a phone box on the street. Without a glance left or right, she hurried through the window of the seemingly abandoned Purge and Dowe's Department Store, oblivious to the fact that Sirius who had just noticed her presence, was calling after her.

The reception area of St. Mungo's, was as usual crowded with an array of witches and wizards sporting various magic related maladies. Crudelis, the plump, blonde "welcome witch" was perched behind the enquiries desk dealing with the small queue that had formed in front of her desk in her usual indifferent manner.

'Vanishing sickness I presume?' she sighed to a floating top hat before her. The hat gave a nod, Crudelis heaved an even bigger sigh and with the air of a suffering martyr replied; ' Second Floor, Magical Bugs – NEXT!'

The hat floated towards the double doors beside the enquiries desk, and an elderly man with a black, tar like substance oozing from his ears and nose took its place at the front of the queue.

'My grandson hexed me accidentally, and I can't undo it,' he spluttered choking on the goo, to the welcome witch, who completely ignored him as she noted Hermione's approach with gleaming eyes.

'Well, well, well – if it isn't St. Mungo's own dark Thestral,' she called delightedly to a confused Hermione who stared back blankly.

'Morning Crudelis,' Hermione replied warily, unused to exchanging any sort of greeting with her normally aloof colleague.

'Didn't think you had it in you Healer Granger,' Crudelis gave her a lascivious wink as baffled by the show of friendliness Hermione shrugged self-consciously back. 'It takes all sorts,' she murmured by way of reply and quickly made her way through the double doors and up to her office on the fourth floor, where she changed into her lime green healer's robes, and made her way towards the nurses station to receive the Monday morning handover before patient rounds.

'Late Ms. Granger I see,' Horatio Hacklebotham, the Hospital Head Healer called as she arrived to see that the handover had already begun, 'Or would you prefer to be called Mrs. Black now?' he continued with a wide grin.

'Pardon?' Hermione stammered, for a moment certain she had misheard him. Healer Hacklebotham clicked his tongue impatiently; 'I _said_, that we'll have to refer to you as Healer Black from now on, rather than Healer Granger.'

'Oh,' Hermione replied feeling light headed,'That's what I thought you said...' Her voice trialled off softly, as for the first time in her life Hermione fainted.

~o0o~

'Alright kiddo.'

Hermione open her eyes to see the handsome face of Sirius Black staring down at her, concern etched in his eyes.

'Sirius?' she struggled to sit up, and found she had been lying on the threadbare carpet of her office. The memory of the scene with Horatio Hacklebotham came back to her, and she groaned aloud.

'No need to sound so happy to see me' Sirius grumbled as he reached for her hand and helped her to her feet.

Still slightly shaky Hermione gave an apologetic shrug; 'No I am glad to see you – I'm just really confused...'

'...as to how everyone knows about our shot gun marriage?' Sirius finished for her; she nodded, still perplexed.

'Well what happened was,' Sirius began, and Hermione listened with growing despair as he outlined how Kreacher had learned of their marriage and decided to take it upon himself to notify The Prophet.

'The worst thing is,' Sirius finished,'The owl that Kreacher sent was intercepted by Rita Skeeter, so instead of a small notice in the announcements section, it's now front page news.' He thrust a copy of The Daily Prophet at Hermione, which loudly declared:

'SIRIUS BLACK MARRIES POTTER'S BEST FRIEND IN VEGAS '.

Clutching the paper in her hands Hermione sank into the chair behind her desk.

'I'm sorry Hermione,' Sirius shook his dark head ruefully, 'I tried to warn you last night, but you weren't at home when I called.'

'I stayed with my parents,' she replied absently, mentally trying to assess the damage that was already done. 'Oh shit _Dean_,' she exclaimed suddenly, smacking her forehead with the palm of her hand.

'Er, it's Sirius actually,' Sirius sounded affronted.

'No Dean Thomas – he's my _kind of_ boyfriend and he's going to have read this,' Hermione groaned waving her copy of The Prophet while Sirius gave a bark of laughter.'Well you are a dark thestral aren't you Granger?' he muttered, still chuckling.

Hermione opened her mouth to give a scathing reply, but before she could there was a quick tap on the door and Horatio Hacklebotham let himself in to the tiny office.

'Feeling better Hermione?' he asked cheerfuly. Hermione nodded and the Head Healer beamed, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

'Good, good,' he said then turned to Sirius who was leaning against the wall. 'Healer Hacklebotham,' he extended a hand for Sirius to shake, 'Pleased to meet you Mr. Black.'

'Please, call me Sirius,' came The Maurader's smooth reply.

'Yes well, Sirius -Hermione; I firstly want to congratulate you both on your marriage, it came as a bit of a surprise of course, but what luck that one of our most gifted young healers fell in love with one of St. Mungo's most generous benefactors.'

Sirius smiled graciously at Healer Hacklebotham, who continued; 'And secondly, Hermione I wish to congratulate you on your new promotion to Healer in charge of The Spell Damage Department. As you know Casius Crane is retiring at the end of the month, and after much careful consideration I, and the board of trustees, have decided on you as his replacement.'

Hermione gave an excited squeal, and Healer Hacklebotham smiled benevolently. 'Yes, yes, very exciting. I must say I was in two minds as to whether you were suited, but today's news put all my concerns at ease.'

'Pardon?' Hermione stammered, feeling for the second time that day that she had misheard him.

'Well,' looking uncomfortable the healer tried to explain himself;'It's just that you spent _so much _time here, that I thought the promotion wouldn't be in your best interest. You need a good work/life balance to be the best healer you can be.'

Hermione felt as though she had been stupefied, while Sirius valiantly tried to smother another barking laugh.

'So can I just clarify,' Sirius asked after a second, grinning widely; 'The reason you're promoting Hermione is because our marriage has convinced you she's well rounded enough to handle the extra stress.'

'Yes,' Hacklebotham smiled, 'Now then I'll leave you two to it – Hermione why don't you take the rest of the day off, you've annual leave to use, and I'm sure you love birds would rather be at home.'

With another benevolent smile the Head Healer left them with a click of the office door.

'Don't,' Hermione held up her hand in warning as Sirius turned to her with a wicked gleam in his eye.

'I wasn't going to say anything,' he replied innocently as Hermione gathered her belongings to leave.

'Except, you know, you so owe me for bagging you that promotion,' he whispered mischievously in her ear as they left her office and made their way along the ward. Hermione gritted her teeth until the reached the stairs, then rounded on him.

'I don't owe you anything Sirius Black, except a black eye for getting us into this mess.'

'I got us into this mess?' Sirius hissed as he hurried down the stairs behind her; 'I seem to recall that _you _were the one who started grinding on _me _on the dancefloor.'

'Yes but _you _bribed the officiator,' Hermione countered, 'With your "ooh I'm big, bad Sirius Black and I'll throw loads of galleons at you until you do as I say" '.

They had reached the first floor and were both glaring daggers at each other.

'Look, let's just call it quits,' Sirius muttered piously still slightly smarting from her impression of him. 'We're both to blame, and we won't find a solution to this mess if we're at logger-heads with each other.'

Hermione nodded in agreement, 'Fine - you're right', she said ungraciously; 'Let's head back to Grimmauld Place and we can try to figure what our next step should be - and I can kill Kreacher and mount his head on the wall beside his mother's'.

'Hermione, Hermione what about S.P.E.W?' Sirius feigned shock as they made their way back bast the enquiries desk and towards the exit of the hospital.

'Fuck S.P.E.W', came her bitter reply.


	5. Chapter 5

'Dean...,' Hermione looked at her erstwhile boyfriend ruefully, hoping that her expression adequately conveyed the contrition she felt.

'...I am so sorry,' she finished lamely holding out her arms helplessly, as Dean Thomas glared at her stonily from across the sitting room of the apartment she shared with Ginny.

Dean, beautiful, artistic soulful Dean – who had been so patient over the past two years even as he became an afterthought to her work at St. Mungo's – dumped a shopping bag of her possessions on the carpeted floor and threw Hermione a disgusted glare.

'I knew,' he muttered angrily, running a hand – fingers stained with ink, through his hair.

'I fucking knew from the way he was looking at you at Harry's engagement party. I knew Sirius liked you, but I thought; nah mate no need to worry 'cuse it's Hermione innit –I thought you were better than this.'

Hermione stared at her angry now ex-boyfriend, dumbfounded by his comment about Sirius fancying her and longed to tell him the truth – that she didn't love Sirius, that it had all been a horrible mistake; but she couldn't. They had agreed to pretend to be married until they figured out how to sort out the mess they were in without jeopardising Hermione's job. A marriage of convenience as Sirius had delighted in calling it.

'I'm so sorry,' Hermione muttered again, shame faced but even as she was finishing her apology she was speaking to thin air - as Dean had stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

'Is he gone?' Ginny, bottle of elf wine in hand popped her head out from the kitchen, where Hermione had no doubt she had been eavesdropping shamelessly.

'Yes,' with a groan Hermione threw herself onto the puffy sofa and covered her face with her hands.

'I'm a horrible person,' she muttered as Ginny sat down in the Queen Anne chair opposite her, and proffered her a glass of wine.

'You're not a horrible person Hermione, her friend assured her, in dutifully soothing tones. 'It was just bad timing, and...'

'A fucking disaster,' Hermione finished darkly, taking a deep gulp of the Elf-red.

The two girls sat quietly for a moment. It was their last day of living together in the apartment they had shared for the past two years. The cosy two bed was located in a small square, just off an alley by Gringott's Bank. Both girls had loved living in the buzzing, central hub of Wizarding London, but now Ginny was heading home to The Burrow to spend her remaining time before the wedding with her parents...and Hermione. Well Hermione was moving to Grimauld Place to 'live' with Sirius.

'Poor Dean,' Hermione ventured after a few minutes of quietly directing, with her wand, a few items of clothing to the suitcase that lay open on the floor.

'He'll be fine,' Ginny reassured her again, though her glance went to the living room window, which looked out across the cobbled square to the Magical Tattoo Parlour that Dean had opened the year after he finished at Hogwarts.

'Do you think he could do anything with that awful tattoo Harry got?' the redhead mused aloud.

'He'd probably ink "Hermione is a bitch" over it,' Hermione quipped and Ginny gave a snort of laughter, though she hadn't laughed when she'd first seen the monstrosity that covered Harry's arm.

'Well he's not walking down the aisle with that hideous thing on his arm,' Ginny said, a dangerous glint in her eye – and Hermione stifled a giggle.

'I thought it was _you,_who walked down the aisle?' she said mischievously and Ginny threw her a glare – the fact that the younger witch clearly wore the the trousers in her relationship with Harry had always been something Hermione had teased her about.

'At least I'll remember getting married,' Ginny replied tartly and Hermione had the good grace to flush in embarrassment.

'Oh don't Ginny,' Hermione moaned, again placing her hands over her face in despair, 'I'm not ready to joke about it yet.'

'It'll be fine Hermione, don't worry,' Ginny laughed. 'All you have to do is live there for a year or two until Hacklebotham retires, then you can get an annulment. God,' she sighed thoughtfully, her eyes gazing into the distance. 'I can't believe you married Sirius Black and didn't have sex with him.'

'Well, judging by last night I'm sure you and Harry won't be getting any type of annulment – you've consummated the marriage at least twice by my count,' Hermione replied dryly.

Ginny gave a Gallic shrug, her eyes dancing with mischief, 'You can't blame a girl Hermione – I'm going to be under lock and key in the Burrow for the next week. Speaking of which,' she gave her watch a quick glance. 'You'd better finish your packing. Mum said they'd be here to collect me by seven – and I know you're not in any state to have _that_ conversation.'

Hermione paled at the thought of Molly and the almighty dressing down that she could expect from the Weasley matriarch and hastily jumped from the couch to finish gathering her belongings. Within a few minutes she was ready, everything she owned hastily thrown into the magically enlarged suitcase.

'Guess this is it roomie,' she said with a sad smile as she stood by the front door, her suitcase hovering beside her, and Ginny glared back – she hated emotional scenes.

'No it's not, I'll see you next week at the wedding, and probably talk to you every day anyway,' the red haired witch mumbled stubbornly, though her eyes looked strangely glassy.

Hermione laughed and drew her friend into a warm hug, 'Well it was wonderful living with you anyway Ginny, I hope Harry appreciates your singing in the shower as much as I do.'

With one last hug, Hermione stepped out into the crooked hallway of their apartment building, clutched her suitcase and apparated to the front steps of No. 13 Grimauld Place.

The forbidding door swung open a second after she landed, and Sirius dressed casually in a grey tshirt and jeans grinned out at her.

'Honey,' he exclaimed in faux romantic tones, 'You're home.'

Hermione bit back a groan, whatever else this marriage was going to be, the one thing it most definitely would not be – was convenient.


End file.
